


Sinful Constellations

by octocto



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay cowboys alert, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Trans Male Character, Trans rights, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, hint also it’s both of them, hosea is trans, its MY fic and I get to chose the tags, vandermatthews, wont matter in the first chapter but it will after!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:03:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octocto/pseuds/octocto
Summary: Hosea's dark eyes skimmed along Dutch's figure.And while Dutch didn't look it, he was eyeing the older in return, too.===A stiff robbery leaves the young curious couple licking their wounds and tending to one another.





	Sinful Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> i do not have any spell check so i apologize, but also I do not really care 
> 
> my method is writing when the gay thoughts hit me, going ape shitt, no plan no plot no gods
> 
> so here’s some dads! 🤡
> 
> rated teen for some bathing dads in the second chapter

Dutch puffed on his crumpled cigar.

Hosea shifted uncomfortably in his saddle.

They were dirty, disheveled, and most importantly, poor.

A bum lead, a phony set up, and getting chased by the law half way across New Hanover didn't fare them too well. Hosea was fine, he thought- worse had passed him by in his 37 years of existence, as shown by the many scars that marred his body like sinful constellations and his eyes that held a little too many secrets. Dutch, on the other hand, looked properly dead.

His usual curls smoothed with pomade now looked mussed and slicked with sweat rather, and his long, shaven face was filthy with mud and blood. Not his own, hopefully. But Hosea probably didn't look much better, but he sure didn't look as if he felt as bad about himself as Dutch did right now. His pouty lips were pursed tight around his sorry looking cigar, nearly curled into a complete scowl along with his low brows and focused eyes.

Dutch could feel Hosea's eyes on him, but he didn't say anything.

Hosea did, though.

“It ain't so bad.”

Dutch immediately took of the defense with a scoff, “Ain't so bad? Mister Matthews, if you consider bein' hauled around all ends of America by a couple of blue-suited cowards to be not so bad...”

“Easy, big cat.”

“Well- I'm just referring to the fact that it wasn't you who got hauled off their horse by an astray branch...”

Hosea's thin smile spoke for itself as he mused quietly over Dutch's demeanour. The latter, meanwhile, fussed while he couldn't see Hosea's amusement with his tantrum. He had quite the affinity for whining for someone who just turned 26.

“Last time, Hosea, I tell you- that's the last time I trust someone we got out of a jail coach when they clue us into a score. I'm filthy rotten dirty, I'm wet, an' this is my last cigar. I ain't got no more clothes, an' since that snake robbed us every cent, I sure as hell don't got more money for anythin' new...”

Hosea interjected with a drawl, “Ah, quit bellyaching. Be happy we got out with our hides. If I remember, Rhodes is just down the way. We can stop there, scrape up some change to get a room and get scrubbed up, an' you can borrow somethin' of mine. Shut up an' eyes on the road.”

Dutch paused, straightening out as he lent his ear to Hosea's stern, albeit reasonable, pitch. There was a long pause, which usually meant the cogs inside Dutch's head were chewing a response. Whenever Dutch van der Linde was thinking so long on a reply, it couldn't be good.

“Hosea,” Dutch's tone was totally soft and nearly sheepish. What a fibber. “I hate to be so brash, but if'n you can forgive my tone... I don't know if I can get myself washed with all these bruises. You reckon...”

“Oh, you're as rich as possum gravy, Mister van der Linde. Now stuff it an' keep you eyes on the damn trail.”

“Can't skin me for trying.”

====

The room they managed to get was nice; nothing to write home about, but it had a double bed, a view of the saloon across the road, and more importantly the bath was right next door. After plotting their next course of action, deciding to hang around Rhodes for a few days, and pocketing the generous sum of ten dollars from a man they bumped into in the hallway... It was finally quiet enough for Hosea to offer a deep sigh and drop his shoulders. Dutch offered to go first into the bathroom, unsubtle about his desire for Hosea to join him.

“You know, like I mentioned, I am ten shades of sore,” Dutch prattled, his broad fingers working down the buttons of his french dress shirt, “I would appreciate some help... Not to mention your company.”

“The only thing that's sore here is your ego.” Hosea chuffed. The younger man across from him gave a small chuckle; deep yet raspy, all in his throat.

Dutch was careful not to catch his rings in his suspenders as he undid them. Hosea was following suit, stripping to his bare essentials for decency. More than just his actions followed, as his steely eyes skimmed over the other man's frame.

Dutch wasn't tall and lean like himself; he was slightly stocky and maybe a little shorter than average, but broad and lovely all the same to him. He had a long, drawn out face and rounded features, framed by dark hair and a tanned complexion. Somehow, he managed to look sophistocated but homeless at the same time... In a good way, Hosea noted to himself. But if he had to get the man to shave off his failed attempts at facial hair one more time, he might go back on it.

Hosea's dark eyes skimmed along Dutch's figure. And while Dutch didn't look it, he was eyeing the older in return, too.

Hosea Matthews, all six-foot-three of spitfire and spite. Everything on him ended in angles, but it scultped his face like a statue. In his age, he was beginning to show a little more wear and tear- some laugh lines and the beginnings of crow's feet, but Dutch didn't care. There was nothing he wanted more than to press his lips to every one of Hosea's angles, follow them like a song.

“Dutch,” The other announced, only slightly ignorant to being the object of affection, “Put your eyes back in your head and hurry up. The tub's getting' cold and I ain't waiting for you to take ten god damn years in there.”

Dutch tried to hold back a smile. “All the more reason to take my offer to join me, then.”

“Always the silver tongue on you, seems... Fine,” as if he needed much convincing, “I'll come in in a moment. Hopefully they won't think I'm playing the part of a bath girl.”

“Well, I await you impatiently, Mister Matthews.”


End file.
